"But why did he bring me here?" insisted Bernardine.

"You will have to ask him when he comes back. He is the only one who can answer that," returned the woman.

Bernardine sprung quickly to her feet; but it was not until she attempted to take a step forward that she realized how weak she was.

"What are you intending to do?" asked the woman, sneeringly.

"Leave this place," replied Bernardine, sharply. "I have no idea as to why I was brought here; but I do not intend to stop for explanations.

Step out of my way, please, and allow me to pa.s.s."

The woman laughed, and that laugh was not pleasant to hear.

"That is contrary to my orders. You are to remain here, in my charge, under my eye, until--well, until the person who brought you here says you may go."

Bernardine's dark eyes flashed; she looked amazed.

"Do you mean to infer that I am to be detained here--against my will?"

demanded the girl.

"That is as you choose to look at it, miss. I am to coax you to keep me company here, and, if you refuse, to insist upon your doing so; and finally, if it becomes necessary, to _make_ you accede to my wishes, or, rather, the wishes of the one who brought you here."

Bernardine drew herself up to her full height, and looked at the woman with unflinching eyes, saying, slowly:

"You have lent yourself to a most cruel scheme to entrap an innocent girl; but know this: I would die by my own hand sooner than marry the villain who had me conveyed in this most despicable way to this isolated place. I have no doubt you know the whole story; but I say this: When my poor father died, I was freed forever from the power of my mortal foe.

His sword fell from over my head, where he had held it suspended. He can not pursue my hapless father beyond the gates of death."

"What you are talking about is an enigma to me," returned the woman, grimly.

"If he has not told you the truth about this matter, listen to me, and let me tell it," cried Bernardine, trembling with excitement. "I--I have known this man who had me brought here for long years, and I know him only to fear and distrust him--more than words can express.

"One day, quite by accident, he met me on the street--right before my own door--and he stopped short, looking at me with evident admiration expressed in his coa.r.s.e face and glittering black eyes."

"'Ah, ha! you turn up your little nose at me, eh?' he cried. 'Well, you shall be sorry for that, and in a fortnight, too, I'll warrant.'

"I would have pa.s.sed him by without deigning him a reply; but he caught me by the shoulder, and held me fast.

"'No, you don't move on like that!' he yelled in my ear, a great flush rising to his already florid, wine-stained features. 'You shall kiss me, my pretty, here and now!'

"I endeavored to pa.s.s him, but he still clutched me tightly, fiercely in his strong grasp, and I--I dealt him a stinging blow across the face with the palm of my hand.

"The action surprised him so that he released me from his grasp for a single instant, and in that instant I darted away from him like a startled hare.

"'You shall pay for this!' he cried, looking after me. 'He laughs best who laughs last!'

"It was within a fortnight after that most unfortunate event that the crisis came. My father sent for me, and told me he had had a proposal for my hand.

"'The man who wants to marry you will make a great lady of you, my girl,' said my father, eagerly. 'You are lucky! I repeat you are _very_ lucky! Why are you looking at me with troubled eyes,' he demanded, 'when you ought to be clapping your hands in delight and asking me who it is?'

"'I am silent because I fear to inquire the name,' I replied, slowly, 'lest you should utter a name which I loathe.'

"'The man is rich,' he said, leaning forward eagerly.

"'Riches do not bring happiness,' I replied. 'I know of a man whom the world calls rich, and yet I would not marry him if he had all the wealth of the world to pour at my feet. But who is this man who has come to you without even the formality of finding out if it was worth his while--without deigning to take the trouble to find out if I could care for him to the extent of becoming his wife?'

"'The son of our landlord,' replied my father, his voice a little husky.

"'Were I not so angry I should be amused,' I answered. 'If there was not another man on the face of the earth, I would not marry Jasper Wilde.

I----'"

The woman had been listening to Bernardine's story indifferently enough until she uttered that name. At the sound of it, she caught her breath sharply, and sprung suddenly forward.

"What name did you say? What is the name of the man who wanted to marry you?" she gasped. "Did I understand you to say Jasper Wilde?"

"Yes," replied Bernardine, wonderingly; and her wonder grew into the utmost consternation when the woman fell at her feet shrieking with rage.

CHAPTER LVII.

Bernardine was tender of heart. She saw that the woman who was groveling at her feet was suffering mental pain, and she realized that in some vague way the name Jasper Wilde, which she had just uttered, had occasioned it.

She forgot her surroundings, forgot the woman had declared it her intention to detain her there even against her will; she remembered only that a human being was suffering, and she must aid her if she could.

Suddenly the woman struggled to her feet.

"I did not know who you were talking about until you mentioned _that name_!" she cried, excitedly and almost incoherently; "for it was _not_ Jasper Wilde who brought you here. It never occurred to me that Jasper Wilde had a hand in it--that he had anything to do with it. I am Jasper Wilde's wife, girl, and the story you have told is a revelation to me.

He must have got the other man to bring you here, and he means to fly with you and desert me! Ha, ha, ha! I always find out everything he attempts to do in _some_ way!"

"He went off on his horse just as you were brought in. Before he comes, I will set you free."

"Oh, I thank you more than words can express!" said Bernardine, fervently.

"You can take the horse and buggy that they always have hitched and ready for an emergency. If they took you from Gardiner mansion, you will find it a good hour's drive; but if you start at once you will get there by sunrise. You may meet some of them on the road; but you seem to be a brave girl. You have a horse that not one of them could overtake in a five-mile race, if you lay on the whip. Now go!"

"But you?" cried Bernardine. "I can not go and leave you suffering here.

You are very ill--I see it in your face. You are white as death. Let me take you to the nearest doctor--there are several hereabouts----"

But the woman shook her head sadly.

"I feel that it is of no use," she whispered, hoa.r.s.ely. "I feel that I am doomed--that my hour has come. Your startling news has done it," she gasped. "Jasper once dealt me a terrible blow over the heart. I--I did not die then, but my heart has been weak ever since. Go--go, girl, while the opportunity is yours. You can not escape him, if he returns and finds you here! Leave me to my fate. It is better so."

As she uttered the last word, she fell back with a dull thud, and Bernardine saw--ah, she knew--that the patient heart of this poor creature who had loved faithless, cruel Jasper Wilde to the bitter end had slowly broken at last.

Reverently covering the white, staring face with her ap.r.o.n, and breathing a sobbing prayer for her, Bernardine fled from the room.

A faint belt of light over the eastern hills told her that dawn was not far off.